Page 20 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

“The beginning, I think. That’ll help me know what to ask.”

He nodded, staring out at the garden as he started to talk.

“There are many types of shifters—wolves, bears, felines of all sizes, to name a few—and even more types of magic in the world. Most every legend has some foundation of truth, though some have faded from the world over centuries. The fae, for instance, have largely retreated to their own realm. Dragon legends have died out, and it’s thought that they’ve all either left the human realm or, perhaps less likely, died. Wolves, too, have been declining for several hundred years.”

He glanced at me, and I nodded so he’d know I was paying attention but didn’t want to interrupt.

“Every species has their own lore, their own beliefs. But wolf lore is very specific. We believe the Moon Goddess blessed us, her most devout followers. After all, we’re guided by the moon’s cycles. The full moon makes it nearly impossible for us to resist the change, the urge to run and bask in her glow. But the rest of the month, we live relatively normal lives. Shifting is something we can control. The wolf is part of us, even when we’re in human form, and vice versa. The man is aware of the wolf at all times when shifted.”

“That’s good to know. So you’re not going to turn red eyed and maul me one day by accident?”

“No, never.” He reached up and traced his thumb along my jaw, giving me a soft smile of reassurance. “The legends say that not long after wolves were created, we began to run in packs. And the Moon Goddess, in her infinite wisdom, looked down and saw that for creatures so devoted, we needed an extra gift. A perfect mate, a soul bond like no other, to reward us for our loyalty to our packs. The oldest legends say that she split each soul, placing the other half inside our mates so that we’d always know when we’d found our other half. How could a wolf not recognize his or her own soul?”

“Oh wow,” I murmured. It was a lot to take in, but I wanted to know every single crumb of detail.

“The mate bonds were a blessing, and wolves flourished for a long, long time. The goddess’s gifts to us were many, but that is the greatest of them all. And to answer your question, my wolf couldneverhurt you. A wolf’s mate is more precious than his own life. I will defend you, and honor you, until my dying day.”

I blinked back unexpected tears at the sincerity in his tone. But I needed to know so much more, I couldn’t start crying right now. “How do you know when someone is your mate?”

“There are signs we’re taught to recognize when we hit our teens usually, but growing up as a wolf, we see it happen over and over. It starts off with a draw, this inexplicable pull to the other person. Mate scent is another early sign. From there, it tends to progress with increased physical contact, but the timeline varies from couple to couple. Some get mate marks really quickly, while others can take months of slowly getting to know each other before a mate scent develops and, eventually, their marks.”

I bit my bottom lip. “That makes sense. Not everyone wants to jump into a serious relationship.”

Like me.I wasn’t ready to jump into something serious in five seconds.

He grinned as if he could read those thoughts. Though he hadn’t mentioned mind reading as a wolfy talent. “Very true. Gael and Leigh, two of my pack mates, were very stubborn about the whole process. It took them months to finally figure it out. They’re both alphas, though, so it’s not really surprising to anyone but them.”

I liked the way he spoke about his pack mates. Like he loved them. There was something about a man who cared about his people that was so attractive. I didn’t want a macho bullshit playboy who called himself an alpha, but this mature, strong, caring man? That was real power. The more he talked, the more I wanted to listen. Just exist in his presence, bask in the glow of him.

Something he’d said sparked another question.

“What are mate marks, exactly? Is it, like, bite marks or something else?” His wolf had very large, very sharp-looking fangs. And I was maybe playing a mental movie with black-and-white Dracula feasting on some poor woman’s neck on repeat in my head.

“Ahh—” He warily rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and I tensed.

“If you have to bite me, just say it. I would always rather know the worst-case scenario,” I blurted.

“It’s not— I don’t— Okay. Let’s back up a little. Mate marks are magic. They appear on your skin like a tattoo, but, for the most part, painlessly. The bite comes later, after a bonding ceremony under the full moon. It’s the wolf version of a wedding, where you’re blessed by the Goddess. The bite is the final step that seals the mate bond and changes your scent permanently. From that point forward, every wolf will know you’re bonded.”

“Wow, okay.” I swallowed hard, choosing not to think too hard about getting bitten and marked forever by those big old fangs. “Thank you for clarifying. But the longer I listen to all this cool magical stuff you’ve got going on, I can’t help but think… I’m not a wolf. What if none of that actually works for me? What if you think I’m your mate because I’ve got a couple of drops of leftover magical weirdness in my bloodline, but then later, you find yourrealmate?” I threw my hands up in the air, then covered my face.

The idea felt incredibly awful, and I wanted to suck the words back inside my body and rewind time before I said them out loud.

Because as soon as I said them, some part of me rebelled at the idea of letting Reed go with someone else, even a perfectly pure wolf shifter who already knew Wolf 101 and could give him little wolf babies. Puppies?Not the point.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders, gently urging me toward his side. “That’s not going to happen, Fiona. I can’t say how exactly the bond magic works when only one of us is a wolf, but I trust that if the Goddess chose you to be my mate, it will work. I promise.”

I lowered my fingers a fraction and looked up at him. “But how do you know there’s not arealwolf out there somewhere for you?”

He sighed, stroking my hair away from my forehead. “Because I’m three hundred and thirty years old, and I’ve never had this feeling. Not until I met you.”

“Holy shit,” I blurted, then slapped my hands over my mouth for a different reason.

He’s over three hundred years old?!

“I know, I’m an old man by human standards. Well, I guess that’s not true. I’m a dried-up corpse by human standards,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Wolves live over a thousand years, so once we hit about thirty, our aging slows drastically. It’s pretty much imperceptible until we hit around a thousand and things speed back up a little.”

I gaped like a fish, not at all sure how to respond to the news that the hot-as-hell guy sitting next to me who, yeah, did look about thirty, was actually older than mydad.

---